Harry Potter and the Story Breakers
by butalearner
Summary: Harry Potter and the rest of the Ministry Six use every tool at their disposal in the war against Voldemort..often in ways that nobody ever imagined. Rated M for gratuitous and completely unnecessary sexual situations and adult language.
1. Chapter One: Luck

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I know JK Rowling is okay with us playing in her universe, but let's not tell her about this particular story and make me be the one to ruin it for us, yes?

Preface: I'm still writing, though my muse is all over the place (including original fiction and non-writing projects), so it's slow going. Here's something to tide you over while you wait for better stories.

As I've mentioned in footnotes and other commentary about the Potterverse, JK Rowling, perhaps unwittingly, inserted a number of potential story-breaking elements into her books. Most of them stem from her piecemeal magic system, which she clearly made up as she went along without considering the consequences. Now that's not necessarily a bad thing (clearly, since she's a bajillionaire), merely frustrating for readers that put too much thought into it. This story features a number of those elements, plus a healthy dose of exaggeration of other characters' traits to the point of absurdity. You know, for good measure.

Warning: there are gratuitous and completely unnecessary sexual situations in this story, though nothing too explicit. If that's not your thing, you are definitely in the wrong place.

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Story Breakers**

**Chapter One**

**Luck**

* * *

"Just...don't think too badly of me when you've seen it..."

Any other time, the pathetic look on Professor Slughorn's face would have torn at Harry Potter's heartstrings...especially because he purposefully steered the conversation toward his deceased mother. Under the influence of Felix Felicis - Liquid Luck - however, all he felt was an incessant tug in the direction of the castle as he pocketed the silvery vial of memory right next to the still-half-full bottle of Felix Felicis. "Yes, yes, of course, of course, gotta go, thanks Professor! Thanks again!"

He stuck around long enough for the Professor to blink drunkenly at Harry's manic behavior before the young Gryffindor dashed out of Hagrid's hut. If he stopped to think about it - if he _could_ stop to think about it - he'd wonder why this tug was so much stronger than the one that had led him out to the greenhouses, where he caught Professor Slughorn to entice him with the prospect of extracting a rare and powerful Potions ingredient from Hagrid's old pet acromantula.

But no, the thought didn't even cross Harry's mind as he sprinted down the steps, because he got the sudden urge to pull his wand. Within seconds, his trusty Firebolt broom, a gift from his late godfather, tore through the night toward him. Harry didn't stop running, and just before his ride reached him he slipped on a rock and flipped backward. When his legs were pointed straight upward, his broom slipped between them and flipped him upright before rocketing him toward the castle.

A pair of Hufflepuff seventh years, sneaking outside for a moonlight stroll, exited the huge double doors just as Harry buzzed their heads on his way past. Half of a shouted obscenity followed him up the first spiral staircase before it faded away. Thanks to the luck potion, the rest of the staircase to the headmaster's office was free of students. Free of students...but not professors. Professor Snape had to duck behind the gargoyle guarding the path up to Headmaster Dumbledore's office.

"Potter!"

Harry heard the surly Professor since he had to come to a screeching halt inside the door, which hadn't yet closed. But Felix told Harry that wasn't important. "Headmaster Professor Dumbledore sir," Harry said in the same breathless yet repetitive voice the potion seemed to make him use, "you'll never believe what I-"

Suddenly Fawkes the phoenix exploded into flames on his perch. Harry instinctively knew it was his day of rebirth, but the suddenness of the conflagration caused him to stumble. His hand jerked out involuntarily to regain his balance, but, as it had been stuck in his pocket from reaching in for the memory vial, it ripped the stitching and sent both vials flying. He caught a flash of silver first as it flew toward Dumbledore, but then he tripped over his Firebolt. His forehead smashed into the corner of the headmaster's desk and Harry saw stars. As his body spun away with the momentum from his stumble, he felt blood welling up in the wound just before his flailing arm swatted Fawkes' perch so hard that it shattered the display case holding the Sword of Gryffindor and sent that flying as well. He hit the floor with a faceful of phoenix ash, and just as he wiped his glasses clean, he saw a small flash of gold as if he spotted a Snitch, a larger flash of silver - the sword, he realized - and felt the remainder of the Felix Felicis splash against his forehead.

Harry had a brief moment to consider the odd, tingling sensation of Liquid Luck mixing with the phoenix ash and blood right on top of his curse scar, then he was distracted by the familiar weight of the sword pommel smacking into his palm, then he exploded in flame and disappeared.

* * *

"What. The. Fuck."

Headmaster Dumbledore registered neither Snape's befuddled execration nor baby-Fawkes' indignant squawks as he stared at the jumble of ash, blood, and glass, on top of which laid a pristine holly and phoenix feather wand. When he realized what must have happened - impossible though it may seem - he stood and strode briskly from the room to find Harry Potter.

* * *

The first thing Harry noticed, as reality righted itself and the heatless flames winked out of existence, was the moaning he heard. Wherever he was smelled...old; like the woody musk of Ollivander's shop, so the dust he felt wasn't surprising. All of this he took in even before his vision cleared of flames to reveal walls of clutter around him - the Room of Requirement, Harry idly noted - and the source of the moaning: two very naked women vigorously snogging against a wardrobe.

Or, at least, they _were_, until they turned to see what disturbed them. Twin yelps, one from the thin, small-breasted blonde on the left, one from the more busty yet butch brunette on the right, snapped Harry's eyes away from the hypnotic quartet of breasts to identify the women. Tracey Davis, the short-haired brunette, threw her arms around herself in an attempt to cover up, while Daphne Greengrass stomped her way toward him, fiery murder in her dark blue eyes. Then her eyes traveled downward and she stumbled to a halt.

Harry's eyes followed hers, and he realized he was completely starkers...and his reaction to stumbling upon the scene quite prominent. He looked up to see the two Slytherin girls flushed just as red as he probably was. Tracey was clearly further embarrassed, but Daphne only looked angrier. With her hesitation providing a moment to think, she stomped over to her clothes. Harry once again became mesmerized by the various body parts he hadn't had the pleasure of seeing so openly swaying as Daphne moved.

His enjoyment was cut short by the most terrifying incantation Harry had ever heard. "_Castrato_!"

Harry jumped out of the way and crashed into the nearest wall of junk. His arm had flung itself outward even before he realized his hand still gripped the Sword of Gryffindor, and he sliced a large, upright, rectangular cabinet in half. In a bout of cognitive dissonance, he actually felt inordinately pleased with himself, as if he'd done something important.

The feeling lasted about three-quarters of a second, at which time he jumped away from another burst of light that he was sure would hurt way more than he could possibly describe. Felix told him his best chance was to grovel, but he didn't feel very hopeful. "Wait, please! I'm sorry! Can we talk about this?"

Sure enough, the only reply came in the form of silent spells intended to make him an easy target. Stunner, Impediment, Jelly Legs...

"It was an accident, I swear!" That only made her angrier, but on the plus side, she fumbled her next silent spell.

Before he could further ponder the strange ways in which Felix Felicis worked, Daphne caught him with a rather powerful Knockback Jinx, lifting him up flipping him back through the air. The Sword of Gryffindor flailed around with him, and in midair he suddenly felt it strike something solid and heard an unholy scream. After a rotten wardrobe covered in thick blankets disintegrated beneath him to gently break his fall, he looked up to find he had cleaved a marble bust wearing some discolored old tiara in two. The two halves of the tiara clattered to the floor and released a blast of inky black mist that smelled oily and evil.

The three nude students stared, transfixed, until the mist dissipated. Then Harry made the mistake of looking up at the girls again.

Daphne's momentary astonishment disappeared. "_Castrato_!"

Harry felt a familar yet undoubtedly odd sensation of being pulled in all directions at once, and the horrific, angry-looking, pinkish-red blob disappeared along with the two women in orange flame. He was glad for the former, though he wouldn't have minded sticking around with the latter for a bit longer...if it hadn't involved dodging several of what could only be a Castration Curse.

His musings on whether or not to consider it a wank-worthy or a cringe-worthy experience were cut short by his appearance in a pitch-black room, the smell of which reminded him strongly of Petunia Dursley. He wrinkled his nose at the memory and blinked rapidly, realizing that there _was_ light, it was just rather dim compared to the constant background light from nowhere that illuminated the Room of Requirement.

Just as his vision nearly adapted to the dark, light spilled out from a newly opened door, and Harry was treated to the vision of a short, squat, and almost entirely naked Delores Umbridge emerging from the bathroom. Before his mind shattered into madness with the sheer horror of the sight before him, his last shred of sanity clung to the Felix Felicis-based certainty that the reason he appeared here hung about her neck. At least, that's how the expression usually goes...the chain of the necklace simply traced the most natural path around the upright, flabby mounds of flesh surrounding Umbridge's head.

A head whose eyes raked up and down Harry's body, then grotesquely licked her lips. "Mmm, I thought you were all out of _his_ hairs, Cornelius." Then she began waddling toward him in a way she undoubtedly thought seductive, but reminded Harry more of Uncle Vernon stalking toward a freshly-baked chocolate pie topped with a mountain of whipped cream.

Forcing the bile back down his throat, Harry screamed and brought his arms up to shield him from the charging blob, once again forgetting that he still clutched the Sword of Gryffindor. Umbridge jumped back and the locket jumped off her spongy flesh like a trampoline, which allowed the tip of the sword to slice right through the center of the locket. The same unholy scream from the tiara pierced the air from the locket, and though sans-Felix Harry might have been frightened at this, he merely felt...rightness.

"Cornelius!" Umbridge said, sending the feeling of rightness running and screaming. "You are going to pay for that!" From the folds Harry vaguely recognized as breasts, she pulled out what Harry thought looked like several rather short but thick pearl necklaces. "You have to do _four_ this time."

Harry didn't rightly know what that meant, but he knew he had to get far, far away as soon as possible. Right on cue, the world dissolved into flame.

And righted itself into what Harry intuitively understood was a vast, dimly-lit underground chamber. Torchlight flickered from behind a pile of...stuff, most of which he couldn't distinguish since the light was on the other side. The metallic smell reminded him of Gringott's, so he felt quite certain that was where he landed. The throaty moans floating over the mounds of treasure made him freeze with déjà vu. Overcome with curiosity and hope that this was indeed more like his first experience rather than...the hole in his memory afterward...he began carefully picking his way around the mound blocking his vision. Before long a strange, squelching sound he couldn't place reached his ears, followed by a woman's voice, deep and lascivious. "Oh, yes! Oh, fuck me, daddy V! Fuck me!"

That stopped Harry in his tracks once again as he felt his blood rush to his face. He struggled silently with indecision - he wasn't sure he wanted to peep in on a couple having sex, especially if the woman looks like...something he can't remember. But Felix decided for him: his feet kept resumed their careful movement through the vault.

Just as he caught a glimpse of the alabaster skin of a once again fully nude, thin but beautiful woman and black hair wilder even than Hermione's, the woman cried out again. "Yes! Give it to Mama Bella, daddy! Fuck me harder!"

Harry immediately understood and saw red. No longer did he see or hear a beautiful woman in the throes of passion; he saw the murderer of his godfather, and heard the woman who taunted him for his weakness and crowed her victory through the halls of the Ministry of Magic. The Felix Felicis within him hummed in resignation to his bloodlust, and with a feral scream, Harry launched himself at Voldemort's most trusted and most dangerous lieutenant, heedless of the large goblet whose conveniently-shaped handle she was, until that moment, humping with wild abandon.

He made it two steps before his toe crashed painfully into a silver tea set, causing the Sword of Gryffindor to fly from his hand before he tumbled head-over-heels into a pile of very expensive-looking and very solid-feeling dinnerware. Said dinnerware promptly began multiplying and pushing him toward the still nude, still frozen-in-surprise Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry, riding on the wave of rapidly replicating dishes, cups, and trays, stopped his somersaulting just in time to see Bellatrix begin to stand, only to be impaled through the stomach by the airborne sword. Jutting out the other side of her body, the Sword of Gryffindor neatly cleaved the makeshift dildo in two, filling the vault with the now quite familiar, high-pitched scream and accompanying oily black mist.

Harry grasped the hilt a moment later, and for a split second, the Felix Felicis engendered a strong and bizarre desire to crack a joke about his sword being buried to the hilt in Bellatrix Lestrange's womb. Then the world turned to flame.

He spent precisely one point eight seconds in an Auror holding cell kicking an astonished, nude, bloody, and now slightly singed Death Eater off his sword before disappearing once again.

This time, the feeling of wetness assaulted his senses. The flowery, clean smell of shampoo and soap hit him even before he realized he was sitting in a shallow, swirling puddle of water. When his vision cleared, he found himself in an unfamiliar but large shower, occupied by a single woman. Just like the first two naked women he chanced upon, this one also jumped back and covered herself in surprise, so he quickly locked his eyes on hers so as not to stare and anger her. It didn't take long for Harry to recognize Katie Bell, and he couldn't help but scan her once more. "You're back," he said, happily surprised.

"I am," she said, recognizing him at the same time just before her eyes flicked downward and widened. Yes, he was _very_ happily surprised.

Words came unbidden to his mouth. "Wow, Katie, if I'd known you were hiding that..."

She blushed prettily and stopped covering herself. She struck a pose, hands on her hips, leaning forward slightly, just like she often did on the Quidditch pitch. Harry would never shrink from that pose again, in more ways than one. "Harry Potter, you little..." Her eyes flicked down again as his reaction became even more pronounced. "Or not." Her smile sent a shiver down his spine. "You know I've never properly thanked you for saving me," she said, closing the distance between them with two sensuous steps. She knelt down and reached between his legs to grip him. "You made me wait this long into my seventh year for _this_?"

When he opened his mouth to stammer out some reply, she pounced, knocking him onto his back and extending her tongue as far into his mouth as it could go. It took him a moment, but his competitive nature asserted itself and he flipped her on her back to counterattack. She growled deep in her throat against his tongue and flipped him back over and pinned his hands with her own. Harry's head swam when he felt her toned, soapy-slick body slide up and down against his. He couldn't help but think this was a much more pleasant form of attack than the others he'd endured that night, and this was a battle he was fully prepared to lose. He knew the strange fire would not be returning to whisk him away for some time, because for the first time in the last hour filled with such incredible absurdity, Felix was telling him he was exactly where he needed to be.

* * *

**A/N**:

This would probably work as a one shot as-is, but I have more story breakers to lampoon before I'm finished.

Someone read my Harry Potter self-insert _Curse of Truth_ and said the main character acts like he has Felix Felicis instead of blood. I figured, if that ain't a fantastic idea for a Harry Potter fanfiction, I don't know what is. 'Course, you have to put up with me writing it. Sorry about that.

So, let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter Two: Ingenuity

Disclaimer: Stick with me baby, I'm the Harry Potter you came in with. Luck be JK Rowling tonight.

A/N: This has been done for some time, but I'm still not finished with the next chapter. Doing that parenting thing once again took precedent. I have picked up working several in-progress stories, though!

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Story Breakers**

**Chapter Two**

**Ingenuity**

* * *

"Are you _sure_ he's not in the castle?" Ron asked for the seventh time.

Unfortunately, Hermione had to be precise; to answer otherwise would be to lie, and Hermione Granger doesn't lie. Except when she has to, but that doesn't count. "No, all I can say with certainty is that he wasn't here the last time I checked two minutes and thirty-seven seconds ago." She glared at the folded-up, deactivated Marauder's Map in her hand again, and through it, at the Marauders behind its creation. Of course she had long since replicated the enchantment on her own, but her version of the map was far less complete. That was because the creator had to know each room very well, which meant the infinitely flexible Room of Requirement could not possibly be added. So, while she knew most rooms in the castle, there were many places she simply would not go and rooms she could not add.

She mentally glared again at the thought of James Potter and Sirius Black knowing the details of even the Slytherin girls' dormitory showers. She suspected that Harry's Invisibility Cloak played no small part in their reconnaissance.

"Well, check again, why don't you? Dumbledore said he could be anywhere." He repeated that bit of wisdom as if it might help them find Harry. "Actually, just leave it out and I'll watch it."

Hermione paused in her pacing, realizing that that was actually a fantastic idea. She always forgot that Ron didn't do the whole "thinking in silence" thing very well. In a moment she had the Map open to her, her wand aloft. She had to stop herself from using the pass phrase to her own copy, a properly bastardized Latin pass phrase that translated to something like, "knowledge is power, guard it well." Of course, she never said it where anyone who might know Latin might hear...someone might get the wrong idea that she was planning to take over the world or something. Well, someone might get ideas they ought not to have, anyway. With a token nose-wrinkle of disgust and as much dignity as she could muster, she incanted, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

She spread the Map out on the table in front of Ron and resumed her pacing about the Room of Requirement. Since she failed to include the Room on her own map, they'd come here to look for Harry as soon as Dumbledore stopped by the Gryffindor common room to ask after him. The reminder of her failure already rankled, and being forced to wait for Ron to extract various body parts from Lavender didn't help. And then enduring his stammering, mumbling embarrassment when he accidentally conjured a sex dungeon in the Room before Hermione had to fix it herself just made her want to throttle him...and Harry for good measure. And then masturbate furiously, because _fuck_, she was horny now.

"Hey, there he is!" Ron said triumphantly, jabbing a finger at the Map. Told ya!"

Hermione stumbled in her pacing and spun to face him. "What?"

"Right there! With Katie in...a Gryffindor girls' dormitory bathroom? How'd he get up there?" Ron scratched his head. "They're, like, hugging and jumping up and down or something. I wonder what the good news is?"

Hermione snatched up the Map and stared. She bit her lip and cursed inwardly at her raging hormones. If this was what Felix Felicis meant by making the drinker lucky, then perhaps she'd have to brew her own _pronto_. A brief glance at Ron and her first foolish thought was quickly discarded. A vapid, attention-seeking slag Lavender may be, but best to let her be the one ruin it. She doubted he would have a lick of stamina for what she wanted, anyway. Her second foolish thought was discarded almost as briefly, though the thought of Katie being there gave her pause. Would Harry...? No, no, no, no, no, that was a bad idea. Not only would that ruin her first friendship, but Katie's body was far better than her own, she hated to admit.

No, it was definitely time for a date with Luke. She'd held out long enough, hadn't she? Almost a full month! This would be the last time, she swore again. Vindictively she considered enchanting one for Lavender so that _she_ would be the one ruined of wizards for good, but surely Hermione wasn't that cruel. Surely not.

She would call it Obi-Wand.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron...good news, that must have been it," she said wryly. "You can go back to Lav-Lav now."

He blushed red as he jumped out of the chair. "Thanks!"

Hermione sighed and followed him to the door, but as soon as he stepped out, a flash of red struck him from the side and Ron collapsed unceremoniously to the floor. Hermione had just pulled her wand, her own Stunner on her lips when Daphne Greengrass rounded the corner, fury evident in her dark blue eyes and mussed blonde hair, tugging a hapless, red-faced Tracey Davis around by her tie.

"Where's Potter?_ Where is he, Granger?_" The venom in Daphne's voice shocked Hermione.

"I-I don't know," she said, fidgeting with the front of her robe with her non-wand hand to make sure the Map wasn't visible. "Dumbledore said he was missing and we came here to look for him."

Slowly, the tension melted out of the long blonde-haired Slytherin, but not the anger. "Damn it!" She spun around and marched back out, kicking Ron's foot out of her way.

"Wait, what did he do?" Hermione called out once she regained her senses. The fact that Daphne hadn't started throwing curses first and asking questions later was a positive sign, but she needed to know how to properly warn Harry.

"It's not that big of a-" Tracey began, but Daphne hissed and jerked the other's tie to shut her up.

She turned her head back and narrowed her eyes. "Let's just say you better hope you find him first, Granger."

Hermione swallowed thickly as Daphne led Tracey away like a slave. Like a sex slave. As if any moment the former would drop the latter to her knees and grab a fistful of hair and make her...and what if Daphne found Harry? It was almost as if she wanted to strip him, tie him up, and...

If there was any doubt about Luke's upcoming visit, that display just shattered it.

* * *

"What are you so happy about this morning?" Ron asked when Hermione made her way down to the common room the next morning.

A rather beatific smile spread across her face. "The same thing Harry's happy about, I imagine."

"He told you the good news already? I still haven't even seen him!" He scowled as he rested his right foot on his left knee to rub it.

"Something like that," Hermione said serenely.

"And my foot still hurts," he whined. "I can't believe I tripped and fell _again_ and forgot. That never happens when I'm with Lavender."

"No, I suppose it wouldn't," Hermione said, still too happily sated from the night before - and twice more this morning - to be annoyed by that remark.

Ron continued to grumble, apparently unconcerned with Hermione's lack of concern, until he made her jump by loudly calling out. "Oi, Katie! Have you seen Harry this morning?"

Hermione swiveled her head around in time to see her pause on her way toward the boys' dormitory and blush deeply. "No, why would I have?"

"Because you-ow!" Ron glared at her as he tucked his foot under his other leg so as to hide it from her. "Right in my sore spot! What was that for, Hermione?"

"Nevermind, glad to see you back, Katie," Hermione called out with a smile and a wave. "We'll see you later?"

Katie nodded and tried to hide her blush as she darted up the opposite spiral staircase, no doubt to fetch something for Harry. Now that Hermione thought about it, it seemed obvious the older girl had harbored a bit of a crush on Harry for some time now. But then, most girls did at some point, at least when they weren't either angry at or scared of him. Katie's single-mindedness when it came to Quidditch was a colossal waste of time, of course - an unfortunate personality quirk shared the redhead currently ranting at her - but at least did her credit in that she never cared about the rumors surrounding him.

Katie was satisfactory, Hermione decided.

"Hey guys, ever find Harry?" Ginny Weasley sauntered her way over, her ruby red hair blowing around her perfect face in some nonexistent breeze.

Hermione thought it a crime that someone could look so damned pretty. None of the girls in fifth year except Luna actually liked Ginny; mostly they just hung around to pick up the guys that she turned down. She continually claimed to be in love with Harry, but she'd also continually failed to capture his attention - sometimes quite amusingly, some evil part of Hermione added - until this year. In a completely bizarre twist of fate, Hermione's subtle insinuation to give the hell up and stop bothering her with that nonsense (which came out as something closer to, "perhaps try dating someone else" and included some utter garbage about "if it's meant to be..."), had actually _worked_. Harry had definitely shot the girl longing looks on several occasions this year while she dated other boys.

"Kinda," Ron said, bringing Hermione back to the present, "he was-ow!" Ron quickly tucked both feet under him now. "Come on, my other foot, Hermione?"

"Oh, stop being a baby," Hermione chided. She barely even kicked him.

"You guys are so cute," Ginny said, winking at her.

"He'll be down in a bit," Hermione said, ignoring the comment.

"How do you know that? I haven't even..." Ron's incredulous question was cut short by Hermione's raised eyebrow. "...ah...right. Well, there's Lav," he said quickly, jumping up onto his supposedly pain-wracked feet to scurry away. She barely heard his muttered, "see you later."

Ginny sighed. "He really is clueless, isn't he?"

"He does make me wonder sometimes," Hermione replied noncommittally. She wasn't quite sure about her feelings toward her two best friends anymore. Harry was too...Harry, and Ron was the only one who knew what all that entailed. Even Ginny, Neville, and Luna, who had accompanied them to the Ministry, had only had a small taste of that. On the other hand, Harry was the one that would actually support her ambitions. Without Harry there, would Ron do so as well? Well, he would, she supposed, because she would _make_ him, but did she really want to continue to have to explain her every action for the rest of her life?

She was only seventeen, so it was too early to think about that kind of thing, no matter what wizarding world tradition expected. If there was one thing Hermione Granger lacked, it was the blind acceptance of wizarding world traditions that held back entire races of magical beings, let alone young witches with grand plans for the future.

"Hey, Katie's back," Ginny said, the surprise in her voice bringing Hermione back to the present. "What was she doing up in the boys' dorm?"

"I dunno," she said. She was telling the truth, after all; she only had a pretty certain idea. "Looking for Harry, maybe? Knowing her, she's probably anxious to get back on the Quidditch pitch."

Ginny frowned, no doubt thinking about the repercussions of her boyfriend, Dean Thomas, not being on the team anymore. "Mmm," she hummed, which almost came out like a moan.

Had Hermione not just taken care of her urges so thoroughly, she might have thought about the time she and Ginny had "practiced" with each other; her for Harry, Hermione for Ron. Well, she might have thought about it a little more enviously. By unspoken agreement, they had never brought up what happened, nor whose fault it was that it went as far as it had. Of course, _she_ wasn't the one who lifted up the other girl's shirt and bra and wrapped her pouty red lips around-Hermione cut off the reminiscence. She didn't need to think about that time with the impossibly beautiful and thoroughly natural redhead just now.

"So where was Harry that Dumbledore came looking for him?"

Hermione shrugged, and she thought she saw a flash of bare feet making their way up the staircase to the boys' dormitory. "With Hagrid, I believe. He got a note the other day that Hagrid's giant spider died and the burial was yesterday."

Ginny turned a bit green. "I know Ron would never go to that. You didn't go either?"

"Ugh, no thank you," Hermione said honestly, making a face. If anything good came out of being petrified, it was missing the adventure into the acromantula lair back in their second year. And the basilisk fight. Now that it was over, she felt quite content with missing that one.

"But why didn't Dumbledore know where he was, then?"

Hermione shrugged again. "You know Harry. He probably stayed with Hagrid to make sure he was okay, put him to bed, fed his dog, tended to whatever terrifying creatures he's showing off to his classes, visited his old acromantula buddies to see how they were getting along...you know, typical Harry. If he's not risking his life, he's not doing enough."

"Yeah," Ginny agreed absentmindedly, still apparently deep in thought.

Speaking of which, now that she could think straight, Hermione really wanted to get back to her own projects. She'd put off resolving the issue with her new charm until she and Luna could speak about it, as painful as that would be. The way that girl buried brilliant insight under mountains of rubbish could be maddening, but most of the time it was worth it. So, replicating the enchantments on-

"Harry! There you are!" Ginny hopped up and smoothed her robe and her hair before sauntering over to him. The illusion of grace shattered when she tripped over nothing and fell face-first into his nether-regions, with her hands firmly grabbing his bum.

His jovial laugh confirmed to Hermione what she supposed about last night, and she couldn't help but feel happy for him. If anybody needed to laugh like that these days, it was Harry. "Well, good morning to you as well, Ginny." He chuckled again at the redhead's obvious mortification as he helped her up. "Dean should be down in a bit." Then Hermione indulged in just the slightest bit of _schadenfreude_ when Harry turned away from Ginny, prepared to completely ignore her. Katie must have really done a number on him last night to change his mind so thoroughly. "Hermione," he said, happiness still plain in his voice, "have I got a story for you. C'mon, I'll tell you on the way to breakfast." He threw her a crooked smile and gestured toward the exit.

She couldn't help but smile back just as widely as she stood, but then she remembered something. "Oh! Maybe that's not such a good idea..." She leaned in to whisper. "Daphne Greengrass was looking for you last night."

Harry came to a halt and grimaced at that. "Er, she didn't hurt you at all, did she?"

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a half-smile. "No, nothing bad happened."

He let out a relieved breath. "Good. That's good." Then he continued walking toward the portrait hole.

"Um, Harry? Daphne?"

"Ah," he said, giving Hermione a cheeky grin, "but I have a good feeling about going right now."

"You've got a lot of nerve showing your face around here, _Potter_," Daphne spat after she marched up to the Gryffindor table, Tracey, as ever, in tow.

Most of the hall turned to watch, though she was speaking low enough that most were out of earshot. "I would say to get used to it since you'll be seeing a lot more of me," Harry replied coolly, but then he grinned. "But I don't think that's really possible, now is it?"

Hermione's eyes bugged out of her head. He didn't tell her this part! At least Daphne didn't look nearly as angry as she did last night.

"Ugh, don't remind me. Disgusting." She made a face, then turned to look at Hermione. "You're lucky you found him first."

"I thought you were-" Hermione began, but Daphne cut her off with a haughty sniff.

"Tracey...told me...that it wasn't so bad as I thought," she said, and the silent brunette's lips twitched into a small smile. "But _not a word_ from you, Potter, or I finish what I started."

"I won't even tell Hermione," he promised. The sincerity in his voice made Hermione curse silently. But she didn't need to know. She really didn't.

Tracey whispered in Daphne's ear, causing the pretty blonde's eyes to flick down to Hermione's chest. Then Daphne pursed her lips as if holding back a smile. "You may tell her, but _only_ her." One more glance at Hermione's chest, and the two Slytherins walked off, whispering heatedly to each other.

Before Hermione could decide whether to feel titillated or offended by that, the post owls swooped in through the high windows of the Great Hall, and her copy of the Daily Prophet dropped in front of her with a headline that made her breath catch in her throat.

_BELLATRIX LESTRANGE FOUND DEAD IN AUROR HOLDING CELLS_

She turned to see a deep frown on her best friend's face. "Harry, I think you left out a few details about last night."

He nodded grimly, and promised, "later." They ate in silence until Dumbledore came and whisked Harry away, probably to discuss last night. Hermione had read that Bellatrix had been nude and stabbed through the stomach, causing her to look up sharply only to realize he was no longer there. The other news was pretty typical, except for an odd story about a break-in reported at a Ministry official's house, but the official refused to report any details.

Harry came back and led Hermione up to the Room of Requirement, where, shortly after he recited some of the events, she felt like vomiting up everything she had ever eaten. "_Umbridge_? Oh, Harry, you poor thing."

"But I killed Bellatrix..." He looked confused, and she got the feeling he thought he should feel more anguished about it.

"An accident," she said, waving it away. "But you saw Umbridge n-" Hermione began, but she had to pause to swallow the bile rising in her throat. "-naked," she squeaked out.

"I didn't say anything about-" Harry began weakly, looking rather ill.

"Oh gods, can you imagine the flab-"

"Stop! I don't need to imagine and I don't want to remember!" Then his eyes widened. "Obliviate me."

"What?"

"Obliviate me, please, Hermione! Please Obliviate me!"

"I-I haven't researched how to excise particular memories, Harry. I'd only be able to make you forget the past half a day or so. And you don't want to forget..."

The look of desperation slowly melted off his face, to be replaced the same kind of smile Hermione wore earlier that morning. "No, not that. Definitely not that."

"Well there you have it. Focus on Katie's firm, athletic bum, shapely breasts, her nice, full lips..."

Harry's eyes shot open. "Um, Hermione..."

"Hmmm?" Her hum came out a little more sensual than she intended, and she felt the blood rush to her face. What was _wrong_ with her these days?

Harry gave a her an odd look. "I thought you liked Ron?"

She huffed. "I might have before. I'm not so sure what I was thinking, now."

Harry nodded his acceptance, and Hermione felt a wave of gratitude for him. That was Harry, always accepting of her, never judging- "Do you like girls?" The wave came crashing down.

"_What_?"

He held his hands up. "Hey, I'm not judging!"

Hermione stood and glared down at him. "You're just thinking of Daphne and Tracey, aren't you?" His blush gave him away. "You are! You better not-" She gasped. "You...are you picturing _me_ with them?" He blushed deeper. "_Harry James Potter_!"

"Hey, I'm sorry, okay? I'm a guy, I can't help my raging teenage hormones!"

His repeat of the phrase that she herself used internally on several occasions cooled her indignation. "I don't know," she said finally, looking at her best friend nervously out of the corner of her eye. She felt a bit wretched, since that is exactly what she was afraid of when she created Luke. She _had_ been thinking of girls lately, but on the other hand...she wasn't ignorant of Harry's...qualities. She remembered Harry pressing up against her on occasions that she'd surprised him with a hug, and there were even dreams about which she felt rather awkward and which she would never act upon. Still, she was pretty sure she didn't like girls. Or, _only_ girls, at least. "I'll have to think about it."

This time, he stood and his smile was devoid of the previous cheek. "As long as you're happy, Hermione, that's good enough for me."

She gave him a relieved smile at that and wrapped him into a tight hug. And felt him pressing against her stomach again. "Damn it, Harry."

"Sorry, Hermione."

"_Ledifius_," Hermione incanted, executing a perfect jab, north flick, nine hundred degree clockwise outward swirl, infinity, southwest flick, two hundred seventy degree anticlockwise arc, _sowilo_, _ansuz_, _thurisaz_, southeast swipe into pirouette, and a twisting jab to finish it off.

"Wow," Harry said from his vantage point near the door.

Hermione spun around and blushed when she realized the entire group had stayed behind to watch.

"Hermione," Luna's mellifluous voice said, "do you want to continue another time, once the wrackspurts have dispersed?"

"No," she said quickly. "What do you know about Geoffrey Chaucer?"

"The Father of British Literature? I know _The Canterbury Tales _is his best known work but _Troilus and Criseyde_ is by far his finest work." Luna tilted her head in thought. "Hmm, I don't remember reading either one." Then her eyes widened. "Did you use those wrackspurts to transfer information to me?"

Hermione sighed. "No, it wasn't supposed to transfer at all," she said, playing along, hoping the other girl would identify _why_ she thought the imaginary creatures carried that information, and how to stop it.

Harry whistled. "Wow, somehow I knew the same thing! What was that charm, Hermione?"

"It's a modified Fludd-Baconian Reverse of the Fidelius Charm. I thought I could replace our DA galleons with a spell to simply insert the information directly into members' minds. It takes an active thought on the part of the recipient to bring up the memory, but I figure we can set a specific time each day at which we'll all think about when the next meeting is." She said all this in a single breath, then sighed deeply. "The problem is, I can't seem to limit it to certain people-or even just to myself."

Harry blinked at her. "Wait..._what_?"

Hermione huffed. "I _said_-"

"No, no, no, I heard you," Harry said, then he pulled his wand. "_Ledifius_," he said confidently, then executed a surprisingly decent jab, north flick, nine hundred degree clockwise outward swirl, infinity, southwest flick, two hundred seventy degree anticlockwise arc, _sowilo_, _ansuz_, _thurisaz_, southeast swipe into pirouette, and finally a twisting jab.

Hermione gaped at him. "H-how did you do that? You only saw it once!"

Harry grinned. "Got lucky. Hey, Luna, what do you know about Hermione?"

"Oh, plenty," Luna said, smiling happily at the older girl. "She exudes intelligence but lacks wisdom, open-minded about what she can see but closed-minded about what she can't, infinitely knowledgable about facts but ignorant of feelings, honest to everyone but except herself, and she has a fine rack." Luna blinked owlishly and scratched her scraggly, platinum blonde hair. "Funny, I don't recall seeing them. Hermione, do you mind if I-"

The cupping motions Luna was making at her combined with the snickering from the direction of the door finally made Hermione realize what the odd Ravenclaw said _after_ the stinging string of apparent contradictions in her behavior. Her eyes snapped to Harry only to find that he was no longer there. "_Potter_!"

"Excuse me, may I have your attention please?" Hermione glanced up to see one of her classmates, and Harry's roommate, standing on the bench at the Gryffindor table. "My name is Seamus Finnegan, just in case you were wondering about me. That's all."

She stared at the widely-grinning Irish wizard, trying to figure out what that meant. Then she recognized a few snippets of conversation from the Hufflepuff table including the phrases "hung like a hippogriff" and "shags like a stallion." Then she realized she already knew that. "Seamus, you cheeky-"

"Oh, let him have his fun," Harry said as he sat down next to her.

"It's _your_ fault my experimental charm is being used for such vile purposes, you know."

"It's not so bad," Harry said with a grin. "He didn't really think that one through: just think of their disappointment if they actually _do_ see him naked."

She snorted at that, but then remembered she was still angry with him, so she shot him a glare. "You're just lucky that I verified the maximum range," she said, still mortified at the thought of her parents 'knowing' she had a fine rack. "You could have ruined his sex life forever like that."

"I?" Harry affected a shocked and innocent expression. "Why, I merely shared my ability with a friend who asked a favor...and quite generously I might add. He only asked for the 'hung like a horse' bit, but the part _I_ added might actually be true."

"How benevolent of you," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"Actually, this was a bit of a test," Harry said. "How convinced would you say they are?"

She glanced around and felt her hope for wizard-kind die a little. "It looks like at least some people are giving him skeptical glances," she hedged.

"But most aren't," he finished. "So come on, let's go meet some old friends of mine." He held out a hand to help her to her feet.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you're a gentleman, now?"

He grinned. "Only for the ladies with fine-"

"Don't you dare-"

"-manners. What?" His look of innocence was ruined by the grin he couldn't keep off his face. "Don't look at me like that. Also, in point of fact, I was actually going for 'fantastic' but I must have done the spell wrong."

"Harry!" Hermione elbowed him in the kidney. "You realize you did the same thing to me as you did to Seamus."

"No, I didn't," he said, still giving her his dashing, crooked smile despite his mock yelp only moments earlier.

"How is it different?"

He raised an eyebrow back at her. "Those hugs go two ways, you know." She blushed and looked away. "Also, you looked really nice at the Slug Club party. I don't think I ever told you that."

Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to decide whether to swoon or swat him. She felt even more flushed. "Were you staring at my chest, Potter?"

"As if I would do anything so crass! I merely stole a glance or six when I felt it was safe. And when Luna mentioned them. I couldn't be rude and refuse my date such a simple request, after all."

"You...Luna...? What has gotten into-oh. Oh!" Hermione stopped mid-stride to wonder why was the Felix Felicis making him talk to her like this, only to realize Harry had turned to walk across the Hall to...the Slytherin table? Her eyes quickly scanned it and spotted Daphne and Tracey, then swept back to glare at Harry anew. She took a moment to mutter darkly about evil, horny little luck potions, then scurried over to catch up with Harry.

"What do you think you're doing here, _Potter_?"

Hermione was unsurprised to hear Pansy's voice instead of Draco's. The latter had been withdrawn all year, and Harry maintained it was due to all the cursing and poisoning attempts on the Headmaster. Hermione had her doubts. Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy, was imprisoned in Azkaban after his failed attempt to capture Harry at the Ministry last year. The man was a complete and utter bastard, but having his father waste away at the mercy of Dementors was more than enough to cause Draco this much distress. Hermione wasn't sure she would wish that on anyone. She absently brought her hand up to the area just below her breasts, where a light scar remained from the dark curse that struck her last year. Well, she wouldn't shed any tears if something horrible happened to Dolohov.

"Hello, Pansy," Harry said cheerfully, causing the girl and several others - including Daphne, Hermione noted - to narrow their eyes at him. He seemed quite unconcerned. "I found out something rather interesting the other day, and I wanted to know if Draco already knew."

"Draco has nothing to say to-"

"Quiet, Pansy," Draco cut in finally. His voice sounded as ragged as he looked. Hermione frowned, wondering why he seemed to be getting worse as time went on. "Make it quick, Potter, and this better not be about that Bell slag again."

Harry's smile faded. "No, Katie is perfectly healthy, you'll be pleased to know. Bad business, that, having an attempted murderer so close at least seems less scary than an actual murderer."

The haggard Slytherin's face darkened even further. "Are you done?"

Harry waved him off. "Oh no, merely assuaging your stated concern over my friend. No, I'm merely wondering if you knew about a man named Tom Marvolo Riddle?"

A light bulb clicked on in Hermione's head and her mouth parted slightly in surprise.

Draco scowled. "Of course I do, but why would I care about some half-blood?"

Hermione could see the smirk hidden behind his solemn mask. "His mother was Merope Gaunt, a fallen, old House, descended from Slytherin, wasn't it? Gave him the name of his father, a Muggle."

The pale boy's face twitched in annoyance. "Everybody knows that, Potter, get to the point!" Hermione guessed, by his expression, that there was new information there.

"He changed his name," Harry pressed onward, pulling a sheet of parchment from his robes and dropping it onto the table, "sometime between his two rejected applications for the Defense Against the Arts position, first by Headmaster Dippet and then by Dumbledore. An anagram of his given name. Perhaps you've heard what he calls himself today." With that, Harry tapped his wand on the parchment, and the letters duplicated and rearranged themselves.

Draco's eyes widened and snapped up to Harry, where they narrowed once again. "Is this your idea of a joke, Potter?"

Harry shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. "If it is, it's impressive how well it all fits. The Gaunts disappear mysteriously, but a Dark Lord without a pure-blood name appears out of nowhere with the ability to speak parseltongue?"

"You can, too, that doesn't mean anything," Pansy countered, finally finding her voice after being shushed by Draco.

Harry smiled and tapped his scar, which Hermione only just now realized was beginning to fade. "This thing isn't just for show, you know. The Killing Curse doesn't leave a mark, so obviously this is something else. I can do it because he can. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? How could he have messed up so badly? Not only did he fail to kill an infant, but he transferred some of his power to that infant as well." His smile widened, taking on an almost feral look. "Perhaps he would have succeeded if he were a pure-blood, yes?"

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but he quickly silenced her with a wink.

"Or is the link between power and blood purity a load of shit?"

"Shut up," Draco said.

"He knows it is, doesn't he? Otherwise he and Dumbledore, also a half-blood, wouldn't be the most powerful wizards in the country. I bet he just laughs about it all the time, using so many pure-bloods to do his bidding all in the name of something he _knows_ isn't true. But he _tells_ them it is just to keep them in line." Harry laughed mirthlessly. "Now there's my idea of a joke!"

"I said _shut up_!" Draco stood, trembling with rage.

"Or what, Draco? Are you going to prove the superiority of pure-bloods by following the orders of a half-blood and attacking a different half-blood?"

"You're lying!"

"Am I? Well, I guess you'll have to find out. Or continue blindly following a half-blood, I suppose, pretending you don't know. Your call."

It took a second, but Hermione snapped out of her slack-jawed surprise at Harry's act of impressive cunning to note that he'd already left. She looked back to see a whole lot of Slytherins looking like Harry just defecated in their cereal...one exception being Tracey Davis. The butch brunette looked like she was barely holding back a smirk, and she meaningfully flicked her eyes and nodded toward Harry, then raised a seductive eyebrow.

Hermione's cheeks pinked at her look and she dashed away before the other girl could get any other ideas.

Having fixed the problems with the Reverse-Fidelius Charm - once again Luna came through - Hermione put the finishing touches on the explanation in her thesis for the Charms year-end project. The surprisingly insightful little Ravenclaw suggested that, as a reversal of the Fidelius Charm, she needed a Secret-Not-Keeper that would never know what information she was sharing, and theoretically could erase the knowledge if that person could untell everyone that knew. And that was not to mention the way that the spiral and pirouette spread the wrackspurts. So it was a much lengthier sequence now, since it required more power to get the same range. In other words, just letting the information be broadcast to everyone is far easier than directing it to specific people, an effect which was likely an inversion of the Fidelius Gap, the Arithmantic term that represented the increase in power needed to overcome the number of people that knew the secret before it the Charm was cast.

It wasn't a perfect Charm by any means - the recipient of the broadcasted knowledge had to actively think of the subject in order to access the information. It made their charmed Dumbledore's Army galleons obsolete, which was the source of the idea last year when she was concerned someone would lose the galleon, or perhaps spend it. It wouldn't be useful for messaging, so it couldn't replace owls, but it could be useful for coordination among Aurors, for example. In addition, her previous version could be used for teaching or general information-sharing purposes.

She signed with a flourish, and leaned back in her chair with a contented sigh. Signing her name to such an extensive dissertation felt like reading the epilogue of a great book; she felt hungry for more, but there was no way to satisfy that desire. Starting a new book - or continuing with her other ongoing project, in this case - just wasn't the same.

Drumming her fingers on the desk, she rolled her gaze to look at the model for her next project, leaning up against the wall, taunting her. It _was_ important, of course. Replicating the enchantments on other, smaller objects could be a game-changer. The Ministry of Magic debacle, for one, might have turned out much differently. With one last relaxing sigh, she shook off the melancholy of finishing such a big project and stood. She picked up the object, turning it over in her hands and examining every last detail. She'd need more samples, but her intensely analytical mind was already picking out and internally cataloging details, though many of them would be inconsequential. A barrage of revealing and observational spells used to examine existing wards and enchantments followed, and soon her quill scratched away at fresh parchment, all thoughts of rest and relaxation banished from her mind.

* * *

A/N:

I picked Robert Fludd and Roger Bacon almost at random (I only purposefully chose people from England) out of Wikipedia's list of "occultists" and attributed some magic to them. First I wrote Faust-Baconian instead of Fludd-Baconian, but I decided that would have been a bit too much of the Hermione-takes-over-the-world motif (the adjective "Faustian" implies a situation in which a person sells their soul to the devil - metaphorically or literally - for power). Interestingly, Roger Bacon's Wikipedia page has a scan of a page of his study in optics, and there is what sort of looks like an inverted Deathly Hallows symbol on it.

Not as much humor (such as it is) at the end, but gotta set up some semblance of a plot. Ingenuity isn't a story-breaker per se, but Rowling's tendency to simply invent magic as she needs it might as well be.


End file.
